


αɱσɾҽ ƈαɾҽɳʂ

by S1E3PY_TH1NGZ



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, DadSchlatt, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Slow To Update, Traumatized Schlatt, depressed wilbur, dont worry about tubbo [;, gay bois [:, i suck at latin sorry, they hate each other to cover their love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S1E3PY_TH1NGZ/pseuds/S1E3PY_TH1NGZ
Summary: It's over. Everything the world had worked for just blew into dust. It's the end for everyone and everything. They don't have long but all that matters is each other, right? Jonathan Schlatt is all alone with no one, surviving on only scraps and his wits. Wilbur Soot never leaves his abandoned house, he has seen too much and fears the world. What happens when the two met each other through a life threatening situation? What if even through their hate for each other something blooms in between them?
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. êxµ§†ï§ lµx

He ran. He ran as fast as he fucking could. The gurgling noises of the dead dragging their feet behind him. He couldn't even feel his throat at this point, it was way to dry and he couldn't catch any breath. In any other circumstance he would be cursing himself for his smoking habits that made running so much more painful but it wasn't the biggest of his concern at the moment. His biggest concern was not getting his limbs bitten off by the undead.

His tall legs could get him far but not far enough as he felt himself slow down from lack of energy. He wish he could just open his eyes and wake up but it was months late for that. He could wish for so many things but it was years late, decades late. His ears started to ring as more sweat dripped onto the deserted ground. He spotted an abandoned building up ahead and it was almost like the sight gave him motivation to run faster. His soul wasn't even in his own body anymore, it was floating above him just watching and feeling his own pain. He could see the enemies behind him but he tried his best not to focus on them for his own sake. If only he didn't accidentally send that damn fucking creeper bomb off then maybe he wouldn't be running for his life. He could almost swear he heard the gurgling grow louder and that never meant anything good.

The closer he got to the building he could make out that it was an abandoned grocery store. He faintly remembers going there with his son before everything went to shit but that thought didn't matter to his panicked brain. He didn't want to upset himself.

His legs were just barely carrying him towards the broken glass door. The moment he got in he knew he only had around 5 seconds to decide what to do and at least 10 seconds until death. Through his panicked glances around the store he managed to find a metal door to the side of the store, probably a storage room. He prayed to those damned gods that it wasn't locked.

He ran, not as fast as he was on his way to the store but fast enough that his ankles wouldn't get bitten off. And thank the heavens above him because the second he went to open the door it immediately slammed open. It was empty and was only filled with shelves of spoiled food but most of the food there was already taken. At first he brushed it off as someone who took the food but remembered that there is no way that person is alive now. He shuddered at just the thought.

Back sliding down the metal door, he looked up to the flickering light above him and attempted to calm his breathing. The gurgling behind him evolved into loud banging on the metal door he was against, he almost flinched. He pulled his small backpack that was just barely resting on his body off and searched through its contents. He didn't have something specific to find but just felt the urge to go through it in desperation for aid. He knew he wouldn't be able to get out of this closet without someway of fighting off the zombies outside the door. The worse part is that he knew what he could use but there was no way he was going to ever use that thing again. He still knew what he had to do, so he picked up the weapon in his bag and held it in his bruised hands. He could feel the metal of the weapon and the way the trigger so perfectly fit around his finger.

He could hear the pain that came with it too. He could hear the scream and the pleads of his infected young one. The way the hurt teenager's eyes begged forever burned into his skull. He remembers the pain of putting his own flesh and blood out of misery and the way the room was deadly silent after the loud shot. His hand clenched around the gun he was holding and put it back in his bag. The gun was almost speaking to him, but he refused to listen.

"Damnit Jonathan" He cursed himself for such worries.

With a quick glance around the storage room for something to use as a weapon, he came across a wooden shelf that had fallen onto the ground. He picked it up, quietly and softly hitting against his hand to see the woods durability. Thankfully, it didn't break onto his hand. It was a good weapon choice for now.

Swallowing all of his fears down his dried throat as he gripped harder on the wooden plank and prepared for the worse. "This is such a stupid idea" He told himself but that wasn't going to stop him. He didn't want to be stuck in a damn storage closet full of rotten and smelly old food. With all his courage he slammed open the door, smacking some zombies with the door while doing so. The remaining zombies focus being on him, mainly his flesh but that's a part of him so it counts as him. He gathered all his strength and swung the wooden plank in his hands and hit one of the deadly foes right in head. He shut his eyes tightly almost in fear. It wasn't the first time he had fought of these monsters, it was just his first time doing this alone. Within seconds the zombie had rag-dolled to he floor from the single impact and stopped moving.

"Guess that one is dead" He briefly confirmed to himself before going back and slamming as many zombies as he could with the wooden plank. It was not very long until the surrounding zombies were all to the ground, probably dead. Unfortunately, the loud echoing noise that came with the second death of the undead creatures was enough to drag more of them...great.

The moment he started hearing loud and plural gurgling his confidence starting to plummet down the wishing well and he suddenly realized the need to run away. The familiar pain in his lungs and legs as he ran far away from the monsters that were filling up the abandoned grocery store. Usually he would be dashing towards the abandoned apartment complex that he's claimed as a home but this time it was barricaded by zombies and seemly more creeper bombs. Of course.

So, he did what anyone else would and ran further to some neighbourhood in hopes to find a vacant house to raid through. Sadly, unexplored areas for him meant that he had no idea where the creeper bombs were and would need to carefully watch where he is going while running away from stupid zombies. Fuck. He swallowed down worries--probably some blood too--and ran down the streets like a goddamn Olympics champion. Once he made it to the street he noticed more zombies as if the thousands behind weren't enough he had to deal with more. Except there wasn't thousands behind and there was only seven, he just absolutely did not care and was relying on only fears.

He approached as many doors as he could and banged on them just to see if anyone was inside. The chances of someone being inside was super low since mostly everyone had already...y'know but he didn't care, he needed someone's help. As he went to reach the last house he had accidentally stepped on a creeper bomb that he didn't seem to notice in his panic. It was something to be expected since the bombs are just small bumps in the ground that you would never seem to notice. He looked down in a hurry the second he heard hissing below his feet but it was too late. The creeper had fully blown up and it threw his body a good meter away from the bomb and closer to the house he was going to check out.

The moment he hit the ground was still just a blur to him. All he knew is that his head hurt like shit and his ribs were most likely very bruised. His bare arms had stinging scrapes from when he slid against the floor and his clothes ripped a little from the cement below him. The loud noises accompanying the loud ringing of his ears did not help at all with his pounding headache. It felt as though someone was smashing his head against the cement so fast and hard like it turned that person on or something. Either way, it made him very sick and his body couldn't take the pain as he slowly closed his eyes shut.

But right before he could get his eyelids all the way shut he saw a person? It was quite an attractive person that he saw so he just believed he imagined it because there is no way someone can look that good in the goddamn apocalypse. His last hallucination before death was to see a hot male attempting to save his life, how pitiful. Only he wasn't dying, that was pretty obvious when he woke up in a room he has never seen before in his life and the pain he felt earlier was just numb. Maybe this is the afterlife. Cool.


	2. årÐê†, ê† †åm Ðïµ

But right before he could get his eyelids all the way shut he saw a person? Quite an attractive male that he saw so he just believed he imagined it because there is no way someone can look that good in the goddamn apocalypse. His last wish before death was to see a hot male attempting to save his life, how pitiful. Only he wasn't dying, that was pretty obvious when he woke up in a room he has never seen before in his life and the pain he felt earlier was just numb. Maybe this is the afterlife. Cool. 

He heard some kind of tumbling from a room next to the one he laid in which was immediately followed by a British sounding voice yelling curses. Great, now he is very scared of what the hell he is doing in this random house with a supposed British dude. He also remembered that it's in the middle of the goddamn apocalypse and he can't trust anyone. Now completely freaking out, he attempted to move off the bed but was almost pulled by the back of his head by burning and fuzzy pain. Almost out of instinct he grabbed onto the back of his head before discovering he had a bandage wrapped around his head. 

He had to think to himself for a moment to collect all the information he knows right now. It's the middle of the damn apocalypse, he's in a random house with someone else he doesn't even know, and his head is wounded. He looked down his body to find even more bandages but that isn't what concern him the most. What concerns him the most was that he was shirtless. What the fuck? 

"Oh thank god you're up!" The same British voice from earlier spoke at him. He glanced up to look at the British boy that was standing at the doorframe holding his bleeding hand. Now he definitely concerned for why the hell this man's hand is bleeding as much as it is. He pointed his attention to the British hand to try and get a better look to which the person understood and backed their hand away. "I was just being silly and cut myself on a rather large knife..." The British looked around awkwardly and then quickly added on to his sentence before dashing away from the door, 

"Stay there, I'm going to clean this up!" And just like that he was left alone in the room again with nothing but the horrific smell of death lingering everywhere. In any normal case, he would be concerned for the scent but when you're a month into the apocalypse, you start to stop caring. He didn't dare get up either because he knew that the searing pain would fill his body back up. He was smarter than that. He heard faint water running which felt normal to him at first and he didn't need to double-take that. But water running didn't make any sense. No one he knew--which was only himself--had water since there was no one they could pay for to have water. It took him a second or more to realize what was incorrect about this situation. 

Not long after, his thoughts had ended and were replaced with the sounds of footsteps outside the room and a curly hair male peeked his way back into the room. "Sorry you had to see that." British-boy apologized and they both looked down at his previously bleeding hand which had about two to three bandaids on it now. "It was a big cut...I needed more than one..." The British one added after watching him look at his injured hand, embarrassment crawling into his flesh at the amount of bandaids he used. What a waste of needed resources.

"That's a bit of a waste, don't ya' think?" He asked the injured British as his unimpressed eyes pierced through his hand and then his face. British-boy's face wasn't as embarrassed now and more annoyed at the way he toned his sentence. "I mean it's the damn apocalypse and you're putting three bandaids on for a fucking cut" He added and it just fuelled the British anger. He just stayed sitting down in the bed he was sitting on while the British male stood at the doorframe with his hands on his forehead. 

"I literally saved your life and you're bitching at me?" The now angered British almost spat at the man on the bed who seem quite unfazed by his words.

"Yes that's exactly what I am doing, stranger." He answered him quite simply and uncaring. 

"You're infuriating, I should've just left you there"

"Well you didn't and now you have to care for me."

"I don't need to do shit actually"

"So you'd rather prefer that I'd die?" He asked the British male who was absolutely pissed at him at this point. The energy in the room was different now, more frustrated and worried than the silence it had before. But the other male didn't answer his question. 

"Go back to sleep, you'll need it." British-boy had completely ignored his question, it would be stupid to answer the question anyway. In the apocalypse it's everyone for themselves or else someone will get hurt. His past with his son proved that. "It's Wilbur by the way. My name's Wilbur." The British one, who apparently goes by Wilbur, had just walked out of the room at that point. Wilbur added something before he left the room that left the other one a bit worried about his safety, "And don't bother telling me your name. I saw it in your wallet; Jonathan Schlatt" He could almost hear his smile through his words.

He was quite scared and pissed off now, "The fuck you mean?!" The British boy just laughed. "Get you ass back here! I want answers!" He yelled at Wilbur but he was far away at that point. "Fucking psychopath..." Jonathan had directed the message to the curly haired British but he knew no one would hear it anyway. 

He took in his surroundings once more in the small bedroom he lied in. There was a messy brown dresser right across the bed he was in that had a bunch of random papers and figurines on top of it with pictures of two familiar-looking friends hanging on the sides of the mirror. Seems like such a teenager thing to have. He really started to wonder if this was actually Wilbur's room. 

As British-boy Wilbur requested earlier, he tried to close his eyes to sleep since his body obviously needed time to rest and heal. Jonathan attempted to swallow all his worries and disbeliefs and sink into the darkness of his eyelids over his eyes. His whole body calming down within seconds like it was waiting for the moment he went back to sleep. At first it was hard for him to sleep with overwhelming thoughts peeking through but as he fell farther into the darkness they seemed to almost stop and instead filled with sweet dreams he would forget about the next morning. 

And it was completely dark for what felt like minutes but really it was hours. Well until he was woken up in a panic from a loud crash. Again.


End file.
